I was a lover of books from the moment I could begin reading words. I never went through the stilted one word phase I went immediately to reading pages at a ravenous speed.
I lost my love for reading when my boyfriend died. Strangely… The same way I lost the feeling to sleep. I went from reading easily 50 books a year to none. Not feeling to read, not wanting to read, not being interested to read.
You can’t even begin to see the irony in this with my having a degree and masters in literature and being a literature teacher for over a decade now. Reading is and should still be my life… Yet it’s not.
It didn’t stop me from buying books. I would still go in book stores and continue to buy but they would be piled unread in my room. After the first year passed I read a book. But that’s it … Every year since I read one , two if I’m lucky. I would enjoy it and feel the love while the book is open but once it’s done and I shut it it’s like a light is turned off again… One that takes 365 days before it could be turned back on.
Yesterday while watching tv I suddenly had the overwhelming urge to read something. So I went to my lifetime love Stephen King and read Mr. Mercedes … A book I’d bought and put down and had stared at me for months.
Me not wanting to read a new Stephen King immediately is in itself a blatant account of just how much I had lost the love for reading. I have every novel collected and would read them as they were released… Now I’m not even a shadow of the reader I once was.
There’s no real reason for it. It’s not as if my boyfriend was a reader (he himself would attest that he’d never read a whole book in his life). I just stopped feeling…
Mr. Mercedes was good … I raced through it in about four hours. But of course now I’m back to square one where I feel like that’s it for a long time.
My response to much of life after he died has been like that. I like running yet I hardly do it. I think about it but can’t bring myself to actually do it. If I do I would last a month then give it up again for another six months. The energy to actually get out of bed and do “things” just never seem to come.
The year is early yet so maybe I will get he feeling again before end of year and actually make it two books… we will see how it goes…